SpeakEdboxxxThe Ed Below
by Flywheel Shyster and Flywheel
Summary: A story about how a 1964 Chevrolet Impala, a Valentine's Day Musical, a blue-haired girl and an unjust, corrupted system destroyed and changed two High School Seniors' lives.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters affiliated with the 'Ed, Edd n Eddy' franchise nor do I own any of the music which this story is based on or the lyrics that may be featured. Whoever really owns them probably got something better to do than to write this!

* * *

**_Speakerboxxx_**

* * *

Eddy McGee would definitely say he had it all made. A wicked fast car, good looks, a loving, caring and _smoking hot_ girlfriend, grades to pass and, after three years of hard work in the school's garage, the team captain of the finest auto mechanics this side of the state border (he'd never really understood why they needed a 'team' for it, he had never heard even heard of a mechanics competition, but why complain? It left out a lot of pressure that other after school clubs brought)

It had happened quite by chance, the whole mechanics business; his dad, a rather charismatic and successful auto salesman, had been called up by the principal one day, telling Chico McGee that his eight-year old son had tried to sell the biology classes' whole supply of dead frogs to a couple of bullies. Eddy couldn't remember ever seeing his dad that mad; the man was known to be suave and calm but that was obviously not the one they sent to pick him up from the principal's office.

His father, after profusely apologizing to the principal, had sat him the front seat and started driving, still without saying a word.

"I'm sorry, Dad; I just wanted to sell something, like you do…" Chico knew his son all too well to know that while he was indeed sorry, he was only admitting it in such an innocent way to save his own ass.

"Yeah, just don't do it again-"He did, of course, do it again; many a times over the coming years. "- Or I'll be forced to tell Mom-"Curiously enough, Chico only did that once. "- And then we'll both be in a whole heap o' trouble!" How wrong his father had been; he still remembered being sent to his room with ice cream while Ma' McGee tore poor Chico a new one.

"I promise I won't, Dad!" Ol' Chico couldn't help but laugh when he saw his son's adorable little smile pushed in between two rosy, apple cheeks.

"That's more like it, son! Now what do you say we get some ice cream packs and you come with me to work?"

"Cool!" And the father and son did just that and had they not, Eddy would not have been standing around all afternoon eating ice cream pack after ice cream pack while seeing the colleges of his dad assemble and disassemble engines (for Chico's sales lot had a partnership with the repair shop adjacent, something that scared a lot of customers away at first). From that day forth, whenever he so much as laid eyes upon a fudgesicle, the removal of centerbolts and flywheels automatically popped up in his mind. Imagine the surprise of Chico when he found the whole crew of mechanics applauding his son who had disassembled the motor of a Jeep and assembled it in another Jeep, wielding only a standardized wrench and a chocolate chip cone.

"**_This is a test._**"

"Fuck me if it is on the first day!" Eddy, the present day one, twisted the radio dial until 'Rapper's Delight' blared out of the car's speakers. "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" The car, a red 1964 Chevrolet Impala convertible, was his most prized possession; given to him by his proud father on his seventeenth birthday. Of course, it had needed some fixing up, it was one of those cars that had always been standing in the back of the lot that everyone dreams about but never buys because restoration would cost... Too much. Not for Chico nor for his son though; the former got it for a symbolic $50 while the latter spent most of his sophomore year around the local junkyards looking for replacement parts. He saw the 64 as a result of, well, practically his whole life.

He parked the car, not only next to a fire hydrant, outside a white house. _Painted _white, of course. Slamming his hand on the horn twice, he threw a quick look in the rear view mirror and grinned satisfactory; he was pretty handsome.

"Hey, baby!" His girlfriend, Caroline Williams, almost _skipped_ up to the car. God damn, she was looking fine that day.

"God damn, baby; you're looking fine today!" He leaned over and kissed her quickly; her father was surely standing in the kitchen window, staring at them as usual. The first time he came to her house for dinner, her father took him into his study to 'get his opinion on the fine collection of African hunting knives'. Safe to say, his junk tingled whenever he came close to her house and _not_ in a good way.

"Oh, Eddy!" Barely had she strapped herself in before he stepped on the gas and roared out of the parking space. He was almost certain Mr. Williams was sharping his knives but he just couldn't bother with it; life was just too good. Cruising down the Atlanta streets like they were his own, his girl by his side (_smoking hot_ if not mentioned); not even the fact that summer was over and they were in fact heading to school could crush his spirits. As captain of the mechanics, he held a certain... _Position. _Maybe not like the captain of the football team, who could certainly be considered a candidate for 'king' of the school, but he was definitely one of the higher VIPs.

"Aight, you know what I want, Sugar." She winked and stepped out, he could barely keep himself together when he saw the fabric of her jeans stretch out; complimenting her ass to the last curve.

He sighed happily, reminiscing about prom sophomore year. It was there she'd seen him for the first time, he'd obviously seen her about a million times; you just don't miss such a fine thang walking up and down the halls of high school. Everyone knew about her breakup with her boyfriend Chip and you couldn't blame some of the guys there for trying. He'd never been so nervous in his whole life, just walking up to her and asking her to dance. It took him a good ten minutes, not to mention six cups of spiked punch, to work up the nerve to do it. Once he did however, it couldn't have gone smoother. They danced for, what felt like, an eternity before he finally sealed the deal, leaning in to kiss her.

"Here you go, baby." Eddy pulled out of memory lane, looking over to see that Caroline was back, two cups of coffee in her hands.

"You're the best." With that, he took a gentle but firm hold of the back of her head and kissed her. Mostly because, yeah, it was still awesome to mack with a hot chick but also to finish the job his two year old younger self couldn't; in the middle of leaning in, he had thrown himself to the right and vomited all over Mighty O's shoes. He was still surprised with just how much detention one can have in the five days before summer. "You think Mighty O's mood's improved this year?"

"Taking into consideration you backed into his mailbox last week? Hmm, let me think." She pressed a finger against her lips and pretended to think about it.

"Ain't my fault."

"You were driving."

"You distracted me."

"I was reading a magazine."

"You distracted me with being so fine in that miniskirt of yours..." Before she could protest, he had stolen one last quick kiss and started the car with a wide grin; driving out a bit more carefully considering the hot beverages his equally hot girl was holding. "Ready to claim the throne?" He threw a glance at her to see her smiling widely.

"You know it, baby." Yep, Eddy McGee could and would definitely say he had it all made.

* * *

**_The Love Below_**

* * *

Eddward Benjamin would definitely say he was miserable. His parents very rarely talked to him, having busy jobs that required a lot of time away from home, his social circle consisted solely of his childhood friend Ed and he was very much single.

Overall, he was miserable because he was alone.

He brought the lighter up to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled. That was better. It had come quite by chance, him smoking; it had been the first time he went shopping since he turned 18 and... It was like a whole new shelf had appeared behind every checkout counter. Feeling particularly down, not only due to his parents acknowledging his birthday in nothing more than a card and a wad of cash but also because of severe writer's block, he decided that... Sure, why not? It was never something he planned to continue with but instead... He felt some of his anxiety and worried thoughts calmed, quickly understanding that it was something only nicotine could bring about.

It had been at the beginning of the summer, the first time he smoked a cigarette. It was now two months later and he crossed the street from his house, leaving for another interesting year in high school; thankfully his last.

Heaving the guitar bag, containing his beloved Epiphone DR-100, further up on his shoulder, he thought back to his last summer as a high school senior. Awaking around noon, he'd made himself something to eat before lounging on the couch, just strumming away while reruns ran on the TV. Heading out in the afternoon, either to buy smokes or just to get out of the house, before making dinner; usually eating it at the grand piano in the living room, trying to no avail to find a melody that just... Never seemed to be there. Then, after lounging until after dark, he would usually climb out of his second story window onto the roof and just sit there into the wee hours of the morning, trying to write. This whole routine was of course fitted with smoke breaks every other hour.

It hadn't been a summer filled with a lot of variety but he would certainly say he had achieved a lot. Flicking his cigarette into a wooden fence, where it seemed to explode in a rain of fiery ash, he stopped briefly to light a new one. He was not a fan of chain-smoking but there was a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach that had always been present on the first day of school, no matter the grade.

This was also the very first time he brought his guitar with him. He quite simply hadn't dared to previous years; everyone, _even the damn glee club_, picked and looked down on the musicians. Such was the way of high school, a hierarchy where your interests decide your social status. But he was a senior now and he would be damned if he didn't spend his last year of secondary education doing the one thing he loved.

For you see, Eddward considered himself a child of music. He was raised with music, raised _on _it. Some of his most cherished memories had occurred by the family's grand piano.

Back when Mrs. Benjamin still fit the description of a stay at home mom and housewife, he would sit for hours upon hours on the couch; watching his mother's fingers dance over the ivory and ebony keys. He was absolutely mesmerized from the first note to the last, amazed this his own mother could create such beautiful music. He had been nothing more than humbled and honoured when she invited him to sit next to her on the bench and seeing the keys up close gave birth to the one dream he had possessed since then; he was going to become a wizard, creating the most beautiful magic there was. Music.

Since those days, Eddward spent every free moment he had at that piano; often experimenting with different emotions. How does happiness sound? Sadness? Anger? Regret? And of course, the one emotion he had yet to put into notes; love. For once he reached it on his mental list, he had turned six and his mother had gone back into work, deciding that being a stay at home mom wasn't as much fun once the child ventures out into kindergarten. So for long periods, his parents were most likely to leave for work before he arose and leave for home long after his destined bedtime. So all through the afternoons, all through the Benjamin household, the music shifted its emotional tone from a wide experimental range to a very narrow and cold one. That of loneliness. For it was a lonely child who played, hour after hour; hoping his parents would come home early for once. It was a lonely child who slowly filled with doubt about his parents love.

"Shit!" He had been raised to be polite; always saying 'please' and 'thank you', always keeping posture in mind, never cursing and such. But as he crossed the street, officially leaving the Cul-de-Sac he lived in and entering 'the big city', he instantly had to run and jump out of the way of a red projectile, that roared by a mere foot from him.

He sighed and continued his walk; the fact that he had _nearly_ been wouldn't mean anything to Eddy McGee, especially when he had his trophy girlfriend Caroline Williams with him. Oh, he knew who Eddy was indeed; they had only been classmates since second grade when the latter's family had moved from Savannah. Never friends though, for the same reasons most people avoided him; his enormous and sometimes confusing vocabulary, bumbling social skills and... Jealousy over the fact that he could handle a piano magnificently at such an early age.

Now however, from what he perceived, the shy little kid who had shown up absolutely lost in the middle of arts and crafts hiding behind his mother had grown into an obnoxious and self-centred mechanic who could weirdly enough be considered a strong candidate for 'king' of the high school, if one were to base such a title upon popularity alone. What made him such a popular guy with the students was that he was the one who had turned the 'mechanics team' into a serious school activity; obviously not realizing that it started out as nothing more than a place for the principal to stick the most severe troublemakers when even the teachers in charge of detention cowered in fear.

But no matter how good Eddy's life seemed, he would never want it. Or... There was one aspect he certainly wouldn't complain about if he possessed it.

A girlfriend.

Not Caroline, heavens no; she was too much of a flirt. Eddy probably wasn't even aware of it, it happened a lot behind his back; quite literally sometimes. No, he wanted someone... Someone who was true to herself. True to the world about herself. Someone who wouldn't mind him writing countless songs and sonnets about her inner and outer beauty. Most of all, someone who complimented him as he would her; together, they would theoretically form the perfect human being.

'_Ugh, just listen to me. I'm talking like love is some sort of biological experiment._' He lit a third cigarette, throwing out every personal rule he had made up concerning smoking. For it was when Peach Creek High School came into view he made a decision.

His grandmother, rest her soul, used to say that somewhere in the world, there's a very special flower, a rose, just for you to pick. It can be absolutely any place or any thing; a location to be in, a person to meet or, simple enough, a flower that needs to be picked before it withers. What makes it special is that you instantly know, almost as if if you were meant to be there at that precise moment. Most people become absolutely obsessed with it; travelling to locations where they think they can find it, such as New York or Paris, France. Grandmother Benjamin had found her special flower, her rose, right there in Atlanta on a vacation with some friends in 1938; it was at a local jazz club named Church he met her one true soul mate, his grandfather.

So wherever it may be his own flower grew and flourished, he would make the most he could out of life in his pursuit of it; starting with his senior year of high school.

"Uhm, excuse me... Are you new here?" He turned toward the voice, very surprised; he couldn't remember being spoken to once outside the classroom in his junior year. The guy, a tall gangly thing with freckles and taped spectacles, seemed to regret ever opening his mouth.

"Who, me?" Eddward looked to his left and right, seeing only students who were too enveloped in their own conversations to notice them.

"Y-Yes." It was then he realized the vibe he must've been giving off; the cigarette, the guitar, the beanie that covered half his head. His father called it 'typical, dangerous hippie behaviour'. Yes, his father had voted for both Nixon and Reagan.

"Oh. No, in fact; this would the first day of my fourth and final year." Freckles' eyes grew wide.

"Really? How come I haven't seen you around?"

"I haven't been the most outspoken person there is." Eddward shrugged. "Besides, it's the first time I bring my guitar to school."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you play?"

"Since the humble age of eleven."

"Really?!" A look of faint disbelief laid out over the freckles.

"Why, last time I checked."

"Holy shit. Holy shit, I can't believe this!" Freckles' face split apart in a wide grin and he started jumping up and down in excitement. Eddward, who expected him to continue, calmly took a drag off his cigarette. "I cannot believe my luck! On the first- Right, I didn't even- Walter!"

"Pardon?"

"That's my name; Walter!" He stuck out his hand and shook Eddward's enthusiastically.

"Eddward."

"Eddward; cool! Look, as I said; I'm Walter! I'm one of the chairmen of the- Wait, Sarah motioned that the title 'chairman' was sexist... I'm one of the CEOs of the drama department and we could really need your help! You see, the-" Eddward waved his hands, had he heard the rambling teenager right?

"My help?"

"Yes, your help! You see, we need a band for the school musical this year!"

"Pardon my curiosity but what is wrong with the one you had last year, consisting of orchestra and music group members? They seemed perfectly-"

"Graduated!" Walter pushed the glasses further up on his nose.

"All of them?"

"Yes!"

"I see. But how are you so certain that there won't be any new-"

"Because everyone _hates _the musicians!" Walter threw his hands up in bewilderment. "Even the damn _glee club_ hates them! And nobody likes the glee club to begin with!"

"I never quite understood that."

"So as a result of this, the principal has cancelled both orchestra and music group this year for a lack of members!" Darn; he had considered to maybe check the latter out.

"But won't that affect the football games as well?"

"It won't! Rivalling schools have to bring _their _orchestras!"

"... That does sound like the principal." He took a thoughtful drag. "Correct me if I'm wrong... But I was under the impression that letting the drama department have their own band filed for a subsection in some..."

"You're absolutely right, Eddward! Paragraph 4, subsection B doesn't allow us to have a band as that no longer classifies us as focusing on the dramatic arts but the ones of a musical kind!"

"And that would, for some reason, cost the school an extra $50,000..." March, sophomore year; the principal had called for a mandatory seminar in the auditorium on the things the school_ couldn't _afford. For two and a half hours, every student and teacher had to sit there and hear a really, really long list of really cool things they would never get. Like an evil Santa Claus."

"Again, correct!"

"That's quite a problem, Walter." He took a final drag before flicking the cigarette butt. "So, you want me to play the guitar for your play; even though the school forbids it?"

"No, I don't want you to play guitar." Walter smiled slyly.

"Then... What?"

"I would like you to join the drama department and act in our Valentine's Day show." Eddward's eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped slightly.

"Come again?"

"If the people who play the instruments, i.e. the band that is not a band, spend more time on the stage as performers, they are primarily considered actors!"

"So... You want me, Eddward, to _primarily _act in the school play and just strum the guitar a little casually here and there?"

"You have no idea how much you would save us!" He sighed; acting had never even been an option for him, large gatherings of people made him nervous.

"Walter, I-"

"The songs are really easy to learn too!" Walter was too excited now; he would not give up that easy. "There's this one song I wrote called Roses-" Roses. Roses.

Roses. Is a rose not a flower? Indeed it is. Perhaps a sign.

A flower waiting to be picked... Maybe in the drama department, who knows? Besides, didn't he just make a decision to live his life to the fullest? Would that not mean stepping outside the box for once?

"I'll do it."

"- Jimmy says it should be the main number but I'm not too sure-"

"Walter, I'll do it."

"- The chords are really simple too; it goes-"

"Walter!" Said young man stopped mid-sentence and mid-movement and looked up, proving rather difficult since his glasses had slid down his nose in the midst of his passionate argumentation. "I'm in."

"You are?" He nodded and before he knew it, Walter had swooped him into a tight hug. "Oh, thank you, Eddward! You have quite possibly saved us!"

"I hardly think-"

"Come! We should have just enough time before the bell to pass by my locker!" The co-CEO grabbed his hand and pulled him with into a fast run.

"Whatever for, Walter?" He, Eddward Benjamin; an actor and guitar player in a band that wasn't even a band? Unthinkable! Ignoring the fact that he barely got through reading in front of the class without stuttering and blushing, the only people to ever hear his music were his closest family. And now, seven minutes before his last year of high school started, he had agreed to do both in front of the whole student body!

'_Oh, Eddward; what the devil have you gotten yourself into?_'_  
_

"I keep copies of the script and sheet music there! Trust me, you're gonna love it!"

Yep, Eddward Benjamin could and would consider himself miserable. But he also had a feeling that could very well change.


End file.
